


Kim Myungsoo’s 10-Step Program to Become A Better Photographer

by flailingthroughsanity



Series: Chromatic Distortion [1]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Minor Swearing, Myungsoo's a stalker but Howon likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or how Myungsoo, twenty-three year-old professional photographer, just wanted to experiment with his new camera and ended up falling in love with Lee Howon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kim Myungsoo’s 10-Step Program to Become A Better Photographer

**Author's Note:**

> Again, like the rest of my INFINITE works, this is nothing substantial. It's just full of ick and fluff and sugar-coated sweetness so just burn it down already.

**1.** **Prepare your equipment well — make sure it’s good to go!**

Myungsoo fiddles with the straps of his camera, making sure to tighten the locks. They were recently bought — a new Canon model with modified specs that he wanted to try out — and he doesn’t want to waste the money he spent on them by having the camera fall out of his grip and crash to the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Satisfied with how well the locks are working, Myungsoo puts the camera away, now deciding which of the lenses in his cabinet he would bring. He didn’t need to bring all of them, as he just wanted to get out and experiment with his new camera. Nothing too serious, as work had been dealt with; no client itching for a photoshoot, no magazine wanting another spread, no manager running his ear off about “ _not being late for once in your life, Kim Myungsoo!”_. So, all in all, it was a pretty good day. Now, he just needs to pick one or two of the lenses that he would bring along.

Finally deciding on an [EF 50mm f/1.8 II](http://www.the-digital-picture.com/Reviews/Canon-EF-50mm-f-1.8-II-Lens-Review.aspx) and an [EF-S 17-85mm f/4-5.6 IS USM](http://www.the-digital-picture.com/Reviews/Canon-EF-S-17-85mm-f-4-5.6-IS-USM-Lens-Review.aspx), Myungsoo grabs both lenses and carefully handles them into the camera bag sitting on top of his desk. Since both lenses were made for a more natural photo, Myungsoo knew he wouldn’t have a problem looking for a subject (and it was always easier to experiment with a new camera by using starter kit lenses).

Checking that his camera was strapped properly in the bag, he places the lenses beside it and straps them both. Closing the bag, Myungsoo slings it over his shoulders, shutting the lights as he makes his way down to the door. Glancing out the window, seeing the grey afternoon, Myungsoo knows his photos would come out with a dramatic lighting overlaying the subject. Grey clouds and a duller light source always made for the more cinematic photoshoots he had done.

Locking the door properly behind him, and hiding a grin behind the scarf around his neck, Myungsoo walks his way towards the park, excitement trailing at his heels.

∞

**2\. Find a suitable area where you feel you can find a good subject!**

Once he had reached the park, Myungsoo found it to be quite deserted. Granted, it was three in the afternoon on a Wednesday, he realized that people would mostly be at work or at school. Those that weren’t would probably at home, taking in the grey sky as a precursor to rain. Never one to be discouraged from doing what he love, Myungsoo carried a handy umbrella in his bag and if it did start to rain, he wouldn’t have to worry about his cameras.

Following a footpath that cut its way into the denser trees, Myungsoo pulls out his camera and attaches the EF-S lens, locking it in place. Glancing around, noticing the beds of flowers growing beautifully by the path, Myungsoo points his camera at them. Swaths of pretty reds, yellows and blues came into focus as he twists the focusing ring, taking in the myriads of monochrome spatters on the petals of the nearest flower.

He takes shot after shot, from one red flower to a yellow one to a blue one. As he plays with the settings on his camera, a thumping sound catches his attention. Turning, Myungsoo regards the figure coming up the path. He could tell it was a jogger, from the rapid up-and-down motion of the stranger’s frame.

He wasn’t surprised, a lot of people liked to jog in this part of the park. It was quiet, secluded and it made for a great place to think while exercising. The coolness of the air also helped make it a popular trail.

As the man jogged closer, Myungsoo’s takes in the details as the stranger comes into focus: purple trainers, grey sweatpants and an off-white hoodie. Black earphone wires trailed down to one pocket — obviously, a phone or a gadget — and Myungsoo slowly steps to the side as the man gets closer.

He takes in the stranger’s hair, as it bobbed up and down along with him, and the sound of the man’s pants as he got closer. He was attractive, in the rough, sharp kind of way: muscles and sex appeal oozing from every pore.

Without realizing what he was doing, Myungsoo raises his camera and points it towards the stranger. He knows it’s wrong to take photos of people, especially when they haven’t given their permission, but something about the man intrigued Myungsoo. Plus, the jogger’s gaze was on the ground, not seeing Myungsoo aim his camera at his form.

It was a good loophole, as far as Myungsoo was concerned.

Twisting the ring, raising the shutter speed and as the man’s face came into perfect detail in the camera’s viewfinder, Myungsoo presses down on the shutter.

Except the tell-tale click of the shutter didn’t echo in the silence of the park. He clicked again, and there was nothing. Pulling his camera away, he frowned down at it, turning the LCD screen on. The jogger continued on his path, running past Myungsoo, faint music blaring in his wake.

Myungsoo presses the shutter button one more, eyes on the monitor.

_Low-battery! Please recharge battery!_

“Ugh!” Myungsoo groans, head hung low upon realizing that he forgot to pack another battery.

∞

**3\. Don’t forget to pack an extra battery, while you’re at it!**

∞

**4\. Capture your subject through all angles; one good vantage point isn’t everything, who knows what another angle can bring you!**

By tomorrow, Myungsoo’s brought with him an extra pack of battery and a portable charging station—nothing wrong with being a little too cautious, he thinks. Making his way to the park, Myungsoo marveled at the clear blue afternoon sky, grateful for the warmth as yesterday’s turbulent clouds had ended with him hurrying home during the downpour.

There were a lot more visitors in the park this time, compared to the lonely silence that enveloped the park yesterday. He grins to himself, watching children run around while their parents stand watch by the stone benches. There were a few joggers as well, following the footpath he took the day before. Looking around, Myungsoo noticed that the man he met yesterday wasn’t around. His lips made an involuntary pout, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t take a photo of the jogger. Yesterday’s grey skies had lent a vintage, gloomy quality to his photos and he could remember the way it lightened the tan of the man’s skin, dimming the neon brightness of his purple runners and gifting a subtle glow to his form as he jogged past Myungsoo.

Oh well.

Going for a more landscape capture this time around, Myungsoo made his perch on one of the taller mounds he spied from yesterday. Raising his camera to his eye, he twisted the zoom ring and continued to take shot after shot to his heart’s content. Some of the photos — the ones where some of the park-goers or the children ran too fast — he knew would end up blurred and ruined. He managed to take some that were quite good; as good as he can manage while looking through the memory of his camera. One parent, mother to a quiet girl playing with her doll on the grass, looked at him, suspicion clouding her expression. Recognizing it, Myungsoo smiled (that one smile he knew would wean him out of trouble, the one that made him look like he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to) and took out his wallet, pulling out one of the business cards he keeps in it.

“Excuse me, ahjumma, can I take a photo of your daughter? I’m compiling for a portfolio.” He says, approaching the woman and showing her his card. She looked at it for a moment, then back to him, before nodding—still a bit uncertain.

Succeeding in getting her permission, Myungsoo whiles the hour away, taking picture after picture of the girl. At first, little Minah was shy—hiding her face behind the doll—but when he crossed his eyes and shook his head, tongue lolling like a dog, Minah started giggling. Cheeks flushed with color, hair in disarray from the wind but a big smile gracing her features, Myungsoo feels his heart throb at how adorable Minah looked. From the side, he can spot her mother smiling at her daughter and Myungsoo tells himself to get really good photos.

Having gotten enough, Myungsoo approaches the mother and shows her the photos he took. He grins, watching the smile on her face grow bigger as each photo of Minah flash by on his screen—from her combing the doll’s hair, to laughing at the camera, to shyly smiling at it—and when he feels a hand grab his pantleg, he looks down to see Minah pointing at the camera.

Still smiling, Myungsoo kneels and shows Minah her own photos, watching the reflection of her smile swim by in Minah’s brown eyes.

“I think I can get these printed out in a few days. You can call me through the number if you want a copy, Mrs. Bang.” He said, bowing to the mother. Waving goodbye to Minah—who was running towards the lake (“I want to see the fishies!”)—Myungsoo pulls his attention back to the camera, taking in the finer details of Minah’s profile. He noticed that some of them had her in mid-blink, some in mid-motion and some were really good. He briefly contemplated the idea of pulling an actual portfolio, all the while unconsciously walking backwards (as was prone to Kim Myungsoo whenever he was in deep thought).

Still thinking about the themes of the photos he was going to take next, Myungsoo failed to realize that someone was jogging through the footpath he was slowly backtracking on. He takes one step backward, eyes still on the screen, and his foot misses the distance between the mound he was standing on and the lower footpath.

A sound of alarm climbs up his throat, eyes closed as he braced himself for impact.

Until he realized that he hadn’t hit the ground—no part of him did. Until he realized that two strong arms were holding him up.

Myungsoo opened his eyes, blinking away the glow of the light as the man’s profile came into focus. It was the jogger from yesterday.

He was breathing hard, sweat trickling down his temple, Myungsoo’s eyes following the droplet run down to smooth cheeks, past a sharp jaw ( _oh my_ ), skimming the surface of the man’s neck and pooling at the hollows of his collarbones. Myungsoo takes in the slight stubble, the tiny red pinpricks of new-born pimples, lightly chapped lips and the sharp nose.

Myungsoo looks up, eyes locking with the jogger’s. They were sharper, a bit like Myungsoo’s, crowned by thick dark eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 _Hot_ , was the first thing that echoed in Myungsoo’s head. _So. Hot_.

The glimpse he had seen yesterday didn’t do justice to the man’s features, not when he was this close, when he was at this angle—so close that a few inches more, and their noses would touch and Myungsoo briefly wonders how that would _feel_ and he migh—

“Are you okay?” The man asks—voice deep and panting (oh _fuck_ )—and Myungsoo realizes he was still in the man’s embrace.

∞

**5\. Keep your distance — don’t stand too close or too far, unless you’re aiming for the macro or landscape shot!**

Myungsoo jumps away with a yelp, feeling all the blood rush to his face as he stammers apology after apology. He feels mortification run though him, and he realizes that he was doing that thing where his hands were beginning to get restless and shake and his mouth was bobbing up and down as he mentally decides between apologizing again and punching himself in the face. He pulls the camera strap over his head, one hand gripping it tightly.

“It’s okay,” the man says. He smiles, and Myungsoo feels like collapsing when he sees the smile. He’s seen a lot of good smiles. As a photographer, it wasn’t hard to look for good ones. He’s seen a whole lot of them — perfectly manufactured, meant to attract the viewers’ attention to them — celebrities have it, athletes have it, even the president has it.

But the jogger’s smile — it was nice, he concludes, but it wasn’t picture-perfect nice. The man’s teeth weren’t as white or as manufactured as most of his models’ were; the lips weren’t perfectly smooth, the skin was chapped as if the man had been biting them ( ~~Myungsoo could think of what else the man could bite~~ ) and when his smile grew bigger, it was a bit crooked, with one _sharp_ canine (breathe, Myungsoo) peeking out more than the other — most of all, the jogger’s smile was genuine.

And Myungsoo was a big sucker for smiles that _nice_.

He’s a sucker for a lot of things, and when the man puts his hand out and introduces himself as Lee Howon, Myungsoo doesn’t find it in himself to refuse closing the distance and grasping Howon’s hand in his.

After all, some photos were best taken when they were as close as possible — and although Myungsoo wasn’t taking a photo then and there, he didn’t exactly find the lack of distance between them uncomfortable. Not at all.

∞

**6\. Don’t scare the subject away; God knows when you’ll find another good one.**

As the days go by, and his work spilling through his schedule, Myungsoo found it hard to find himself time to go to the park. It wasn’t because he missed Howon or anything—no, not at all, it wasn’t like the guy wasn’t the only attractive guy in the world and it wasn’t beca—

Okay, so maybe, maybe he did, sort of, kind of, missed the guy. A bit.

But it wasn’t like he had a crush on the guy. He was just a good subject, is all. Myungsoo wasn’t blind — he knows an aesthetically pleasing subject when he sees one and Lee Howon sort of fit into that category. It wasn’t that the man was ugly, it was the opposite in fact, but he wasn’t a man that seemed to look good all the time.

Howon reminded him of models whose attractiveness differed from time to time, from lighting to lighting, mood to mood. He’s worked with models who looked better when made up than without, and he’s worked with models whose bare faces still looked good enough to grace cosmetic magazine covers. Howon was one of them, and it made Myungsoo curious because he wants to know how good Howon would look good if he wore a suit like the one his models wore for that corporate magazine spread he did — if his laughter would look as heartwarmingly adorable as little Minah’s, if a shy smile painting his face on a sunny afternoon would lend a softness that would contrast the sharpness of his features.

It was just curiousity, Myungsoo told himself. Everyone was curious for something.

His just happens to be Lee Howon.

And if Lee Howon stopped while in the middle of jogging and waves at Myungsoo (who finally manages to find time to go to the park), it would only be satisfying his curiousity if he raised his camera and took a photo.

∞

**7\. Make friends with your subject. Be nice. You need them, after all.**

“So, do you jog here a lot?” The words had barely left his mouth and Myungsoo already feels like burying himself twenty feet below the ground he was currently standing on.

  _Really? Do you jog here a lot? Where else would he jog? This is the only park in the entire city!_

As though reading his mind, Howon chuckles, toweling his sweat-soaked hair dry. The deep ( ~~sexy~~ ) sound of Howon’s laughter manages to pull Myungsoo’s attention away from his self-deprecating thoughts, and he realizes that it’s a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again.

The man continues to towel his hair, and Myungsoo takes the time to watch the way Howon’s chest heave as he regulates his breathing. The man’s dark purple shirt is soaked, making it seem black, and Myungsoo feels his throat close up when he spots Howon’s nipples perking. He bites his lips, looking away, only to take in the ridges of the man’s abdomen.

 _Mother of God_.

“Yeah, everyday. But I guess you knew that.” Howon says, and it confuses Myungsoo for a moment until he realizes that he had asked a question beforehand.

“Oh. Oh. Yeah.” He answers, a little stupidly, but if it seemed stupid to Howon, he didn’t show it except for a small smile in his direction.

Howon should really stop with those small smiles. They almost look as good as his cheeky grins (something Myungsoo still feels like panting at).

“Uh-huh.” Howon responds, and for a moment, there’s a shared silence — the shouts of children’s laughter had deafened to faint-like heartbeats and almost silent panting Howon was making — and Myungsoo pushed himself to do what he had set out to do before his usual idiot self ruined things.

“Do you want to go for coffee or something?” He says it (almost shouts it, in fact) and Myungsoo feels his cheeks reddening again at how stupid and loser-like he sounded. He wanted to go for the tall (he was a bit taller than Howon), dark (well his dark hair did complement the whiteness of his features well) and handsome (that needed no explanation, whatsoever) approach and maybe swoon Howon for a bit but he ended up sounding awkward and idiotic and oh my god someone _please_ shoot him now before he bangs his head against the tree or against Howon’s face—

Howon’s face, whose grin was getting bigger and this is it, Myungsoo thinks. Howon’s about to laugh and he’ll _really_ die of humiliation and he won’t be able to hide the cache of porn he has under his bed and mother would be so disappointed in him and—

“Sure, if you’re paying.” And at this, Howon winks and Myungsoo dumbly thinks that he’d buy Howon anything if he looked at Myungsoo like that.

∞

They agree to meet at a coffee-shop near the park in a few hours, and Myungsoo arrives and sees Howon sitting at a table fit for two near the window. His hair is a bit wet, and Myungsoo smells the faint scent of body wash and he takes in the way Howon looks in the purple (why is he not surprised?) sweater he was sporting, watching the cloth catch light from the slowly darkening sky. It looked soft, cozy even, and although Howon was the opposite of soft, it sort of fit well on him.

Maybe soft and sharp were the two sides of the same coin that was Lee Howon, and Myungsoo watches the soft smile on his face transform to that cheeky grin he loved to use as he catches sight of Myungsoo’s camera peeking out from his bag.

“I’m guessing you’re a professional photographer then?” Howon says, eyes on his camera. Myungsoo grins, turning to take it out and hold it in his hands. He’s always loved the feel of the camera in his hands.

“Yeah, I am. Took this one out to experiment with it.” Myungsoo says, grinning at Howon.

And as the blue sky fades into orange and the orange fades into purple, Myungsoo learns a lot about Howon. He learns that Howon’s a year older than him, that he’s not an athlete but a dance instructor at the university, that purple’s his favorite color.

Myungsoo learns that when Howon laughs, his eyes don’t turn into crescents, but they sharpen out; he learns that when Howon grins wide and open, his lips form a shape like a heart; he learns that Howon’s a sassy little shit, managing to sneak in a sarcastic comment after sarcastic comment that makes Myungsoo want to both pummel him and shut him up (with his lips) senseless; that Howon’s hands are big, his fingers long and thick (don’t go there, Myungsoo) and Myungsoo learns that his own hands look small compared to his, and that maybe they’d look good together — the end of his fingers lightly touching Howon’s as he continues to grin at Myungsoo.

Most of all, Myungsoo learns that although Howon’s facial expressions are as pleasing as they come, the man’s true emotions echoed in his dark eyes. Myungsoo learns that the laughter brightens the gleam in the dancer’s eyes before the sound comes tumbling out his throat; learns the look of compassion and sympathy swimming in them as Myungsoo tells him that his father died last year and all he has left is his mother; learns that Howon has a hard time vocally expressing his sympathy, choosing instead to grasp Myungsoo’s hand and share the warmth between them and Howon quietly says that he sometimes misses his parents, too, and that they’ve lived a good life.

Myungsoo looks at Howon, and he learns that Howon’s beautiful — and although he wants to take a picture, wants to freeze this moment, pause time and memory — Myungsoo doesn’t grab his camera.

Right now, Howon’s too beautiful and Myungsoo just wants to drink it all in.

∞

**8\. Realize that you’re falling in love with them. This is the time to panic.**

Howon invites him to come watch him in class, and Myungsoo kind of wants to refuse, kind of wants to accept. He wants to refuse because he realizes that he’s already falling way too fast for Howon, that even though they’ve know each other for a week, Myungsoo already feels like he’s known Howon all his life and it’s stupid, it’s utterly stupid and he knows he’s not living a romantic comedy. He knows that this life isn’t pretty paint and even prettier pictures and a soundtrack by The Cranberries.

It should be irrational to fall in love with Lee Howon when Myungsoo can count how long they’ve known each other in both hands.

He knows that it should be irrational, but at the same time, it feels like it’s right — that Myungsoo’s where he’s supposed to be.

And that’s what scares Myungsoo the most.

But when Howon’s smile slowly starts to fall, the gleam in his eyes losing light, Myungsoo realizes that _this_ scares him more than realizing he was in love with Lee Howon.

He nods, says yes and Howon’s grin is back on his face, bright and excited like the rest of him. He turns, waves goodbye to Myungsoo and all the photographer could do was smile, wave back and dig Howon’s name deeper into his heart.

∞

He brings his camera with him to the university’s dance hall, smiling at the energized way Howon leads him to the hall. He’s not even walking straight — he makes a lot of turns, too many just to look at Myungsoo, tell him to hurry up and what else can Myungsoo do when faced with that grin, with that passion? He hurries to Howon’s side, camera bag dangling against his side, and he remembers his earlier days, remembers the thrill of finally, _finally_ being able to do what he loves most and he finds that he and Howon aren’t as different as he once thought back then.

Howon grabs his hand as they enter the hall, and Myungsoo feels himself flushing as the students inside turn to look at their teacher. He feels eyes on him, on his face, on his clothes, on the way his hand fits so well in Howon’s larger one, the disparity between his tanned skin and Myungsoo’s paler one like shadows playing against the light.

He sees grins spread across some of the students’ faces, watches as a few of them duck heads together to talk quietly—eyes on his and Howon’s hands. He even sees jealousy flash across the faces of some of the female—and occasionally, male—students and for some weird reason (that Myungsoo will not explore at the moment) that makes him want to lock his fingers with Howon’s.

He tells himself to stop being an immature idiot. He also sends a smirk to some of the female students—watches one of them roll her eyes at him.

Howon pulls him to the front, introduces him to the class and tells them Myungsoo’s a photographer and he’s doing a portfolio and that he’s really talented (Myungsoo’s face is beet red at this) and that everyone should do their best and give their all for today’s class as Myungsoo will be covering it.

Howon wasn’t lying. Myungsoo will take pictures — but he already knows, deep inside, that the four-hundred thirty-two empty picture slots in his camera’s memory card won’t be filled with the class, but of Howon.

The class begins and Myungsoo walks around, snaps photo after photo — music plays in the background, some hip-hop song he doesn’t recognize but it fits, somehow and when he turns to look at Howon, he doesn’t even feel bothered that he’s already snapped a photo.

He takes a glimpse at the camera screen. It’s perfect.

An hour comes and passes, and Myungsoo realizes that he spent more time watching Howon than taking photos — spends most of it watching the way Howon dances, the way his muscles flex, the way the expressions flit across his face, the way he dances to the music like it’s fueling every vein in his body. Howon’s movements are powerful, strong, passionate — they’re not fluid and smooth, like the way one of the senior students (Dongwoo? Woon?) dance — each movement, each gesture punctuated like a scream, each expression wrought with silence, painted with sweat and motion.

Myungsoo doesn’t know what word to describe it; he’s never been good with words, has always been too cautious about saying the right things that he ends up not saying anything at all — but if he could be cliché for this moment, if he could let himself daydream like the characters of the romance mangas he secretly used to read back in highschool, he’d say it was beautiful.

Howon was beautiful, but this, _this_ , this was a different sort of beauty. This was the kind of beauty that you want to watch over and over again. This was the kind of beauty that no matter how many times Myungsoo snaps photo after photo, he’ll never be able to capture the entirety of the moment. This was the kind of beauty that left you breathless, left you reeling, feeling like you’re on the edge of the world, about to fall into the abyss yet unafraid to fall, anyway.

Because falling into the abyss was like falling in love with Howon, and as the man ends his dance, Myungsoo sees it for a second — it could almost be a figment of his imagination, but Myungsoo believes otherwise; no, he _knows_ otherwise — sees happiness, unguarded happiness, flash through Howon’s eyes and then Howon’s smiling professionally, bowing to the applause and cheering of his students.

He smiles, laughs at the comments and cheers and Myungsoo realizes he’s smiling to himself, smiling at the way Howon is just so perfect by being so imperfect and when Howon’s eyes lock with his across the room, a gentle smile on his face, it hits Myungsoo.

He’s in love with Lee Howon, and he’s not scared anymore.

∞

**9\. Realize, again, that panicking was pointless in the first place. It’s love, what else can you do?**

Myungsoo places his camera back to its bag, listening to the timber of Howon’s voice as he discusses a few last-minute pointers before dismissing them. He sits on the ground, watching the students file out, some of them waving goodbye to him and he smiles and waves back (Dongwoo, Myungsoo finally remembers, waves both his arms at him goodbye and Myungsoo laughs, wide and easy at the senior’s carefree attitude).

When the last student had left, shutting the door on their way out, Myungsoo leaves his bag and basically runs and throws himself into Howon’s arms. He can’t help it, can’t help the pent-up emotions in him after watching Howon dance, can’t help it when he’s ready now, he’s unafraid. He’s no longer scared, not anymore.

“H-hey, what’s wrong?” Howon asks, amusement and the subtle trace of concern in his voice, taking a few steps back to accommodate the force of Myungsoo’s jump. Myungsoo shakes his head, doesn’t mind that his forehead is slick with Howon’s sweat as he pushes his nose deep into the curve of Howon’s shoulder. He breathes Howon’s scent in, smells the cologne he uses, the sweat and the smell that was just Howon. It’s not an appealing mixture of scent, and on any other day Myungsoo would bat his hands at Howon to go wash up, but not now, not when he’s feeling _too_ much.

“You were amazing,” Myungsoo manages to say, muffled and quiet but at the way Howon’s arms tighten around him, at the way Howon’s lips trace the lobe of his ear, Myungsoo knows the dancer heard it.

“Yeah?”

Myungsoo pulls his head away, looks up at Howon — and he sees it there, beneath the humor and cheer — and sees the doubt, sees the search for approval from Myungsoo. It hits Myungsoo, and he wants to laugh (he knows it’s not funny, but he really wants to laugh) because although Howon is confident and snarky, passionate and sure of himself, for all that sense of identity, Howon still wants a sign of approval from Myungsoo.

Myungsoo wants to laugh because Howon doesn’t even need to do anything, just stand there and be himself, and Myungsoo will still want him either way.

He breaks the silence, smiles at the once-upon-a-stranger he’s met a week ago, and says, “Yeah.”

Myungsoo watches the smile blossom in Howon’s eyes before they erupt on his lips and before Myungsoo could do anything — even just to breathe — Howon’s made a longing sound and he leans down and captures Myungsoo’s lips in a kiss.

Howon’s lips are rough and his grip on Myungsoo’s body is hard and firm and damn it, if that doesn’t turn Myungsoo on. Myungsoo doesn’t even realize that he’s closed his eyes, that his hands are grabbing fistfuls of Howon’s hair, that he’s pushing back just as much as Howon is. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing, not when Howon’s whispering for him to open his lips and Myungsoo does and—

His mind blanks at the feel of Howon’s tongue. There’s no finesse, no delicacy in the way Howon is kissing him but it’s passionate, and it’s overloading each of Myungsoo’s senses. It’s all he could think, the feel of Howon’s tongue against his, the slight pain as their lips crash together, the sound of Howon’s open-mouthed breathing, the sound of _his_ open-mouthed panting, the feel of Howon’s fingers as they knead into his sides and Myungsoo’s moaning — a needy, vulnerable whimper that even shocks him —   and Howon continues to kiss him breathless.

It could have been seconds, could have been minutes but they slow down, breathe and Myungsoo simply rests his head against Howon’s forehead (it’s a bit awkward, Myungsoo’s a little bit taller but it works, they work), breathing slowly as Howon presses lazy kisses against his lips, breathing just as raggedly as Myungsoo is. He realizes that Howon has not stopped holding him, has not stopped the slight swaying he’s been doing that Myungsoo just managed to notice.

“Myungsoo,” Howon whispers, more breath than words, but Myungsoo hears and he love the way his name roll across the dancer’s tongue. Howon’s looking at him, but there’s something in his eyes. Myungsoo watches it dance across Howon’s eyes, watches the deep, dark brown glow with whatever Howon wants to say but can’t.

Howon’s lips make this odd motion, as if he wants to say something but he can’t find the words, can’t find the strength to voice them out — can’t express the entirety of what he’s feeling into words.

Myungsoo understands, because he’s not good with words himself. He understands, because Howon shows more in what he does than in what he says. He understands, because the only way to know all of what Howon was feeling, all of what Howon was wanting to express — the only thing Myungsoo had to do was look into his eyes.

Myungsoo understands because what else could it be?

And looking back at him from the reflection skimming across Howon’s eyes was just Kim Myungsoo himself.

He understands. It's love, it's not a choice. It just is.

∞

**10\. Say it back. Don’t be mean. After all, you did love them first.**

∞

“I love you, too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You may now burn this, the website and me down. No one else deserves to read this trash.  
> Post script: I apologize if the camera jargon and equipment are not accurate. Not only is this story trash, but also is my shutterbug knowledge of cameras.  
> Post (post) script: I'm sorry, I had to insert Minah there. I love her. TuT


End file.
